


The Ring

by Witchersforge



Series: Aiden Lore Stories [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchersforge/pseuds/Witchersforge
Summary: In order to make enough money to live the rest of his days in peace, a father makes a choice to sell his son to the Cats, hoping to create something better out of him.
Series: Aiden Lore Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001292
Kudos: 10





	The Ring

The thought of the family line ending right then and there lead to a difficult decision. The idea of creating a gift that would rival anything anyone could give to the emperor was too enticing. They’d only managed their one son, and every attempt before and after him never came to fruition.

The idea to sell Stradugralt wasn’t as painful as they expected. In the end, they would be paid for giving up their only child and they’d be able to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. Still, maybe there should be some attempt to connect to their young son before he was shipped off with the shady looking Cat he was being offered to.

He wasn’t the brightest child, but at least he took to languages quickly. His half elf mother was gifted with fluent elder speech, and his father could only hope that might give him some edge in the trails. After all, he heard about how many boys were killed and how few survived, though the Cats had unmutated women with them, maybe they wouldn’t force them. Maybe he’d stay the same. 

Eventually, though, the time came to offer their goose egg to the Cats. Kyndlevan never realized how weak he was until the realization he was being taken away set in. The crying was grating on his nerves and he had more important things to worry about and to get on with once this exchange happened.

“Hey.” Tired of it, Kyndlevan nudges his son’s shoulders to get the boy to look at him, off put by how blue those eyes are when they’re so red like that. That gaze is intense. It’s knowing. And he hates it. “Think of it like this, just a good ten, fifteen years, and you can come back.” Seeing that isn’t keeping the body from trembling and looking like a fool at all, Kyndlevan sighs and shifts, trying to think of anything before an idea finally forms in his head.

“Here, you see this?” The soldier, thankfully out of armor today, tugs off his glove. “This was for your mother. Now, it is for you. You will go with them, you will train, you will serve your country, and you will finally make us proud. Do you understand?”

Not really, the boy wants to say. He has no idea why this is happening. Why his parents are forcing him to go. Why he had to leave everything behind. But he knows better than to anger his father before he goes, so he simply nods, reaching for the ring in Kyndlevan ‘s outstretched hand.

There’s an inscription, one he’d never seen before:

“Vaer'truov visse, eigean visse, Claenwyhn.”

Somehow, seeing those words, the boy knows it means nothing really to his father. At least now there was a distraction.

\--

“No personal items.”

“Just take it from him and sell it. He won’t remember it anyway.” Kyndlevan didn’t like this witcher. The Grandmaster he met with felt too...secretive, like he already knew too much before Kyndlevan had even known he existed. “He’s not that bright. In fact he’s downright stupid, we’re hoping you fix that.”

The Witcher’s green eyes narrow, not exactly thrilled to hear this Nilfgaardian speak that way, let alone about his own son. Still, this was an important deal being made, they Cats would have enough gold to keep the Caravan moving to Strygga long enough to get the newest recruits through the trials. That’s what’s most important.

“What’s his name?”

“Stradugralt Claenwyhn Aep Kyndlevan.”

Too long, the witcher things, crossing his arms and glancing to the other man he’d brought with him, almost like they’re having a quiet discussion. It unsettles Kyndlevan to his core. They’re too secretive. Too strange. 

“Very well.” The Witcher finally relents, offering a drawstring pouch. Sure enough, it looks quite heavy. “Anything you want to say to him before we go?”

“Nothing.” Kyndlevan shrugs almost half-heartedly, taking the pouch once it’s handed over. “Just don’t let him disappoint you too.”

“We’ll be certain of it.” The witchers watch him go, completely unbothered by the rather pathetic sniffling the child left behind. In fact, by now, they’re both used to it. “Gaetan?”

“Kinda wish we killed him.” Gaetan, the second man, stands there cross-armed like he’s somewhat uncomfortable. “Or scared him more. He really thinks you’re gonna keep that deal.”

“We are, for now,” the Grandmaster replies, reaching over to grab the boy’s shoulders. “...What was it again?”

“Too fuckin’ long.” Gaetan replies, watching as the child seemingly ignores them to focus on that shiny little ring in his hands, which is way too big for any of his fingers right now. He looks traumatized, and understandable so.

It’s only going to get worse, kid.  
“We ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Gaetan doesn’t seem sure of what’s going to come from this, but he can only expect the worst as time goes on. Maybe this one won’t be so bad. Maybe their fucked up mutations won’t ruin him.

He can only hope.


End file.
